Havdallah
Let there be light
In a land west of Eden
Where productive passionless drones
toil
Under halogen bulbs
Inhale the missing fragrance
in a holy sanctuary
Where frankincense and myrrh grew musty
in a forgotten crypt
Jordan amber now burns sweet and pure
On the alter
Watch a last, lone drop of wine
Land in a goblet, teeming with tension
dissolving in rivulets
Over the sides of the cup
My friend, meeting you reconnected me with some of the sparks I lost along life’s way.
For me, you are the drop, the amber, the light, and I am grateful.
